


Dreaming Beauty

by Jaela



Category: Otomen
Genre: Dream Sequence, F/M, Fairy Tales, Fluff, Romance, drag(sort of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 21:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaela/pseuds/Jaela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asuka is sick during his class's discussion on what to do for the cultural festival, so their decision and his role in it come as a bit of a surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming Beauty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dasmondschaf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dasmondschaf/gifts).



Asuka was sick.  
His muscles ached and his fever swelled and he hated missing school-- more specifically, missing the cheerful smile with which Ryo greeted him every day without fail.  
But it wasn’t all bad. His comforter was nice and cozy and snug, and the gel cooling pad he had over his forehead and eyes was tangerine-scented. Plus, the sugar-sweet voice of his most beloved pop idol, Noro Emi, played softly on his speakers.  
“Shouhi shite bakkari ja,” he mouthed along silently, “nandaka munashii.”  
Not only was Emi cute, but she was different from other idols. Her lyrics were simultaneously much deeper and much less affected than what was in the mainstream these days. And her simple melodies were so delicate and sweet and--  
_Bam! Bam! Bam!_  
\--And they most assuredly were not usually accompanied by those loud, obnoxious bass drums, were they?  Asuka reached to his bedside table and clicked the pause button on his stereo remote.  
_Bam! Bam!_  
Ah, someone was knocking(rather more enthusiastically than they needed to) at the door.  
“Asukaaaa?” a muffled voice called out. “You probably can’t come to the door ‘cause you’re sick. So I’m just gonna come in, okay?”  
Asuka’s brow furrowed. Well, that was interesting logic.  
Juta practically danced into the room in a burst of energy. “I brought your assignments!” he exclaimed with a grin. “How are you feeling?”  
“I’ll survive,” Asuka hedged. he wouldn’t mention that his headache had almost been gone before Juta arrived with twice the enthusiasm of an entire team of cheerleaders.  
“Good, good!” Juta sat on the edge of Asuka’s bed and deposited his armload of handouts and notebooks and things on the bedside table. “Good news-- we decided what we’re going to do for the cultural festival!” He slid one paper off the top of the stack and held it up proudly.  
“Sleeping Beauty.” Asuka blinked at the colorful illustration of the slumbering princess, her long golden curls spilling out over the pillow on which she lay.  
“Uh huh! So what do you think?” Juta grinned as he waved the brightly-colored flyer in Asuka’s face. “Isn’t it exactly your kind of thing? A girlish, tender love story like this?”  
Asuka stared blankly at Juta. “I guess it’s a nice story. But what is this about?”  
Juta flourished the paper with growing vigor. “It’s the play our class is putting on for the cultural festival! Okay?”  
“Sure,” Asuka agreed, a little of Juta’s keenness awakening in his own chest. The thrill and spectacle of theatre had always held a place in his heart. It would be nice to see his classmates energetically presenting their rendition to the eager crowds. Yes, that image seemed rightly beautiful in Asuka’s mind.  
"Good! Because you’re going to be a crucial part of it,” Juta said.  
Asuka afforded his friend a smile. This did sound like good news-- it would be fun to help out with this. “What am I doing? I can paint sets or sew costumes.”  
Juta shook his head. “Even more crucial than that. We all voted on the castlist today by anonymous ballot, and the decision was totally unanimous!” He grabbed another item from the stack of papers and whatnot, and pressed it into Asuka’s chest. “You should start memorizing your lines now... Princess.”  
Juta winked.  
Asuka choked on air.  
“Wh...what?!”  
“Like I said, we all voted. And you’re our Princess, Asuka! So there's your script-- all of your lines are already highlighted for you.”  
“But why would everyone vote for me to play the Princess? Wouldn’t.... wouldn’t someone else be better suited for that?”  
Asuka coughed. “Well, first of all, we decided to perform the play the way it would have been done in European theatres in days of old. It’s only gonna be the guys, even for the chick parts.”  
Asuka nodded, his brows still furrowed in confusion. “And?”  
“And what?”  
“You said ‘first of all’ so there must be more. And after all, just because it’s all guys doesn’t explain why I’m the Princess.”  
Juta laughed nervously. “You’re not suggesting that someone who knows about your Otomen-ness, and thus understands how perfectly suited you are for the role, could have interfered and rigged the votes... are you?”  
“What?”  
“Never mind,” Juta said hurriedly with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Who knows? Maybe our class has a weird sense of humor. In any case, we’ll be counting on you for a great show, Princess. See you!”  
Juta was out of the room before Asuka could say another word.  
“Princess,” Asuka muttered.  
And then the fever took hold.

He was just curious. He wasn’t trying to get into any mischief or anything, he was just bored. It was his birthday, after all. Why shouldn’t he get to explore a little? And he’d never been to the Lower Towers before. No one even spoke of them. Who knows what could be dwelling there?  
When he pushed open the heavy wooden door, he wasn’t expecting to be intruding.  
“Oh!” He thought his voice sounded strange-- higher somehow, with an odd cadence to it, but he didn’t have time to pay it any mind. Before him in the darkened stone room was an old woman bent over an odd sort of contraption-- something like a wooden wheel set on a table or bench. He craned his neck to see it better. He’d never seen anything like it before, and it was a thing of curiosity and wonder.  
“Well, hello,” the old woman said, looking up from her work and turning to face him. “Is there something I can do for you, Milady?”  
_Milady_... well, that didn’t seem right. Hesitantly, he raised a hand to his face, and then brushed his fingers back to his hair. What they met there was a shock-- curls. He ran his fingers through them-- _long_ curls. He grabbed a handful of hair and pulled it in front of his face to inspect it-- long _blonde_ curls. That really wasn’t right... was it? He tried to work out why not, but something seemed to be blocking his thought process.  
“...Milady?” The old woman looked concerned. “Are you quite alright?”  
“I think so,” he said. Again, his voice sounded odd to his ears. But he tried to brush it off.  There was an item of even greater interest. “What are you doing, may I ask?”  
“I am making thread,” the old woman replied.  
“Making thread,” he repeated. “I’ve never seen it made. Nor heard of how.” He took a few timid steps forward, eyes running over the wheel-thing with a sense of wonder.  
“Under your father’s administration, ‘tis a practice that must be done in secret,” the old woman explained, “though not a soul knows why.”  
It was beautiful, the way the messy, tangled pile of fluff was pulling itself into a single neat, glistening string as the wrinkled fingers worked. It was beautiful, really. And he was compelled without even thinking to the words he said next.  
“May I give it a try?”  
The old woman looked at him critically. “You’re built strappingly for a Princess,” she drawled, “and your fingers look clumsy.”  
His face fell. “I see.”  
“But,” the old woman said with a sigh, “I suppose no harm can come from you trying your hand at it for just a moment. Who am I to refuse the Princess?” She rose laboriously from her stool and gestured for him to take her place.  
“Thank you,” he said gratefully, and set himself down. The gown that flowed over the stool as he took his seat, too, seemed wrong somehow-- but again, he couldn’t place just why.  
“Alright. How do I-- ah!” He was startled by a sudden pain in his hand. The device had a spike-like thing on it, and he’d carelessly let it jab into his finger. “Oh no...”  
A ruby red droplet of blood welling up from the wound was the last thing he saw. His vision swam-- he suddenly felt so very, very sleepy...

“Shizen to shizukesa niiii~” Noro Emi trilled.  
Asuka rubbed his eyes. Hadn’t he shut off the stereo? He sat up and looked around.  
Ah-- the sound was coming not from the stereo, but from his cellphone. He grabbed it hastily and flipped it open.  
“Hello? It’s Masamune.” His voice was groggy and weak.  
“Ah, hello! It’s Ryo!” his favorite voice answered. “Asuka, are you okay? You sound awful.”  
Asuka smiled at her concern. “It’s okay-- I’m feeling a lot better, actually. I’ve been getting plenty of sleep.”  
“Did I wake you?” she worried.  
“It’s okay. It’s time for me to take more medicine now anyway, so I might have been in trouble if you hadn’t called.”  
Asuka could almost hear her smile.  
“Did Juta get your assignments to you okay?”  
“Oh, yes. Will you tell him thank you for me if you see him?”  
“Sure! You know, I wanted to come along too, to see you. But I got assigned to make costumes for the play...”  
“It’s alright. I wouldn’t want you to get sick from being around me.”  
“Okay. But be sure and get better soon, okay?”  
Asuka’s heart soared. She missed him. “I will, I promise.” He laid back down, still holding the phone to his ear. “How are the costumes coming?”  
“Pretty well, I think,” Ryo said. “I’m trying to use some of the sewing techniques you taught me before, but I’m definitely not nearly as good as you.”  
“I’m sure they’ll look beautiful,” Asuka reassured her.  
“Thank--” Ryo’s voice was cut off by a high tone.  
“Ah-- I’m sorry Ryo, I think I’m getting another call.”  
“It’s okay. I can wait.”  
“Thanks, just a sec.” Asuka switched over to the other line.  
“Asuka! Big trouble!” Juta said. “I caught your germs, and now I’m sick. Very sick!”  
That was a lot of vivacity for someone who was dreadfully ill.  
“R-really? Already? You were just here.”   
“I get sick really easily and quickly. It’s a big problem,” Juta said. “But anyway, I was supposed to play one of the fairies in the play. But now Hanato has to take over for me,” he said.  
“Oh?” Asuka didn’t know what else to say.  
“Right, and see, Hanato was supposed to be the Prince. So now we’re short a prince, and there are no more guys in our class who don’t already have roles!”    
This all seemed very convoluted to Asuka, but he supposed that maybe his mind was just still a little fogged up from the fever.  
“So, I guess someone will have to double up and play two roles then?”  
“No, no, no,” Juta said. “That will never do. One of the girls is just gonna have to step in. I know it would have been a scandal in Shakespeare’s day, but there’s absolutely no other option. None.”  
“Uh... okay.”  
“So we need a girl who’s got a similar body type to Hanato. He’s pretty slight, you know,” Juta said. “Since you weren’t involved in deciding on the project, I’ll leave this one to you. Good luck!”  
“But--”  
_click._  
Asuka sighed and transferred back to Ryo’s line.  
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Ryo.”  
“No problem.”  
Asuka cleared his throat, and the color that rose to his cheeks could have just been the fever, but...  
“Ryo, how do you feel about, um, acting?”  
She giggled delightedly. “You know? I’ve always wanted to try it.”


End file.
